


moved among your fingers

by apostolosian (mercutioes)



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bondage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, THIS ONES A DOOZY Y'ALL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercutioes/pseuds/apostolosian
Summary: in which roles are reversed





	moved among your fingers

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by this twitter thread: https://twitter.com/r3fin3/status/886420818296754177
> 
> title from "the raiment we put on" by kelly cherry which is a Very good poem

Samothes’ reputation as the protector, the caretaker, the overseer is well-earned.  He finds pride and pleasure in taking care of those he values, in providing for them.  Most days, he’s perfectly content to rule in all aspects of life, benevolent and unshakeable.  And Samot is content with this too, never truly ruled but usually happy to let Samothes have his way as long as he doesn’t interfere with Samot’s true domains.  But in the end, those who live as long as the two of them end up craving change and flux and reversal.

It’s a rare rainy day in his kingdom.  The air is still hot but heavy in a way that makes Samothes’ skin feel too tight.  He lounges in bed with Samot exchanging long lazy kisses, all the time in the world in the air between their lips.  Samot kisses over his face, his eyelids and cheeks and nose and forehead, and unexpectedly Samothes feels the overwhelming urge to let all his control go, to let Samot take what he wants from him.

“My love,” he murmurs, stroking over golden hair as Samot presses teasing little kisses to his jaw, just under his ear.  “Would you, ah…”

“Hm?”  Samot raises his head to meet Samothes’ eyes, curtain of hair falling along his face.  He takes Samothes’ breath away, still.  Samothes shifts, trying to formulate into words just what he wants, exactly.  No matter how many times he asks for this, it never gets any easier, and his face flushes slightly despite himself.

“Could you…”  He strokes a hand over Samot’s cheek and Samot catches it, kisses his palm, waits for him to finish.  “Could you take over, for a while?”  It’s not quite what Samothes wants to say but Samot seems to understand perfectly, smiling gently and kissing the pads of Samothes’ fingers one by one.

“Of course,” he says.  He leans down to kiss Samothes again, pressing the wrist he still holds down into the mattress above his head.  Samothes sighs, lets his body fall pliant and open as Samot takes his other wrist and presses it next to the first.  Samot pulls back, looks him over, eyes filled suddenly with hunger and fondness in equal measure.

Samot reaches above him and plucks a long blue scarf from the bedpost where it hangs discarded after its last use, when Samothes had bound Samot and ate him out until he cried.  Now, Samot wraps it gently around Samothes’ wrists, weaving it through the intricate lattice of the headboard and tying it just tight enough that Samothes can struggle without hurting himself too badly.

That done, Samot sits back and surveys Samothes’ stretched out body like it’s his kingdom, like he can’t quite decide where to begin.  Samothes’ breath hitches in his chest and he licks his lips, tensing and pulling just slightly at his bonds which rub deliciously at his wrists.

With a hum, Samot runs fingers down Samothes’ neck.  His nails scratch slightly, just enough to tease a shiver out of Samothes.  Samot leans down to suck a trail up Samothes’ neck and his fingers rub infuriatingly slow circles around one of his nipples.  Samothes arches up, gasping, feet planted on the bed and fingers clenched into thin air.

Samot continues to tease him, touches too light or too quick to do anything but increase the aching hardness between his legs.  Samothes is panting now, the too-tight feeling of his skin itching for a balm, for someone to loosen him up and fuck him out until he’s sated.

“Please,” he gasps, yanking fruitlessly against the scarf.  Samot hums, lips wrapped around his nipple and sending sparks along his nerves. He rests his chin on Samothes’ chest, looking up at him with an innocent tilt to his lips.

“Please what?” he asks sweetly, fingers trailing lower and lower until they’re stroking along the seam of Samothes’ hip.

“You know what I want.”  Samothes hates saying it, hates asking for this but he knows that Samot won’t let it go until he does.  He supposes that’s why he fell in love with him, after all.  Samothes is jarred out of his thoughts by one of Samot’s long, long fingers moving down, stroking over his perineum in an infuriating tease.

“I can’t know what you want if you don’t ask for it,” Samot purrs, leaning down to kiss along the vee of his hips.  Samothes screws his eyes shut and bites his lip, feels the blood rushing to his face.  But Samot digs his thumbnail suddenly into that sensitive patch of skin and the words leave Samothes in a jumbled rush.

“ _Fuck me_.”

He can’t see Samot grin but he can feel it all the same.

“There, now was that so bad?”  Samot’s hands leave his skin for a moment, and Samothes opens his eyes to see Samot leaning over to their bedside table to retrieve the half-empty bottle of oil they keep there.  He shuts his eyes again, anticipation clenching low in his stomach.

And then there’s a slick finger at his entrance, and a breathy, _oh_ , escapes his lips as it pushes inside, slow and inexorable.  He can’t remember the last time they did this, unused to the sensation, new and raw like an exposed nerve ending.

“Oh, look at you,” croons Samot, fucking into Samothes in earnest now, crooking his finger just right inside him and making Samothes cry out before adding another.  “Oh, my love, I’m going to _wreck_ you.”

The words send a full-body shudder through Samothes, who already feels fully wrecked with two of Samot’s fingers hitting that spot inside him on every stroke and his other hand scratching red lines down his chest.

It’s not long before Samothes is close, his peak just out of reach with fingers alone.  He’s in a hazy place, time blurring with liquid pleasure, punctuated by bright spots of sharp pain when Samot digs nails into his skin or bites a mark into his hip.  He’s floating, shaking apart, unable to think or speak or do anything but pant and whine and _feel_.

“Are you close?” asks Samot, his voice infuriatingly smooth and steady.  Rivulets of sweat run down Samothes’ body, dripping into the sheets.  Samot’s fingers never tire, never cease and Samothes knows he can’t take much more of this limbo, this tense place just before the peak.

“Yes, Samot, _please just touch me –”_

“No,” says Samot, leaning down to breathe cool air across Samothes’ cock.  Samothes writhes above him, not finding any relief but unable to stay still under the onslaught of sensation.  “No, I think you can come just from this.”

Samot hitches one of Samothes’ legs onto his shoulder and something in the change in angle and pressure sends Samothes careening over the edge, splashing over his chest and torso and keening loud and long as Samot fucks him through it, never letting up.

Samothes comes down, shivering and so, so sensitive, scarf biting into his wrists and hands hanging limp.  But Samot doesn’t stop fucking into him and, much to his own chagrin, Samothes whimpers pitifully at the sensation, pleasure almost bordering on pain.

“Samot, what…”

“My love,” says Samot, fingers slowing their movements to a tease.  “Surely you can come once more for me.”

“ _Oh_.”

Samot leans up, kisses Samothes’ slack mouth and down his jaw and presses his knee almost to his chest in the process.  Samot adds a third finger, curling them inside him just so.  He’s starting to get hard again despite the overstimulation and Samot grins at the sight of his slowly filling cock.

“You can’t imagine what you look like right now,” says Samot, voice casual as can be.  Samothes moans high and reedy as the fingers inside him take him further and further apart.  He feels split open, cracked fully in half and offering up what’s inside to Samot’s hunger.  He almost doesn’t have the energy to writhe anymore, fucked out and exhausted, but his body says otherwise when Samot hits that spot just right and he can’t help but buck his hips.

Slow but inevitable, Samot fucks him towards another peak, sharp pleasure verging on pain.  He can’t even moan anymore, simply riding the waves of pleasure, little _ah_ s escaping his lips on every exhale.  His hands hang limp in his bonds above his head.

He knows Samot wants him to come like this, knows that he won’t stop until Samothes finds that release under him, but it feels too distant, too impossible a task for even Samothes.  He licks his lips, tears forming in his eyes and running down his cheeks in desperation.

“Samot, Samot please… I _can’t_ …”

“Shh, of _course_ you can.”  Samot presses down on that spot inside him, rubbing hard circles against his inner walls and sending pleasure-pain up Samothes’ spine.  Samothes wants to cry out, to scream, but all that escapes his mouth is a high, helpless keening.

“Come on, just a little more, you can do it.”

Samothes tastes salt from his own tears, forces his eyes open to see Samot staring hungrily at him, gaze sharp and intense.

And suddenly he’s coming with a weak cry, pleasure so searing hot it feels like his whole body is burning up like so much dry kindling.  He whites out for just a moment, can only distantly hear Samot’s soothing murmur and light touch along his stomach, his hips.

He’s drifting back into awareness when Samot pulls his fingers from Samothes’ pliant body and unties his hands from the headboard.  Samot rubs feeling back into his palms and fingers, kissing each knuckle in turn.  Samothes’ breath begins to come more evenly, his heart rate slowing to normal while Samot retrieves a wet cloth, cleans the both of them up.

Samothes opens his eyes, finally present enough to cup Samot’s face with one weak hand, thumb stroking over his cheek.  He looks down to see that Samot is still hard and frowns.

“Let me take care of you.”

Samot laughs, the sound bright and clear.

“Absolutely not,” he chides.  “This was about taking care of _you_ for once.”

Samot curls up next to him, pulls Samothes into the circle of his arms.  Samothes’ skin is still raw, overstimulated, but he feels safe in his husband’s embrace.  Warm like sunshine.  Samot kisses the drying tears from his cheeks, and Samothes marvels at the power this boy-king has over him when he chooses.  It’s terrifying.  It’s exhilarating.

“What did I ever do to deserve you,” murmurs Samothes, burying his face in Samot’s sweet-smelling hair, dampened with sweat.

“I could ask the same,” replies Samot, pillowing his head on Samothes’ chest.

They fall asleep just like that.

**Author's Note:**

> "it's 2017, everyone's a switch" - austin underscore walker
> 
> also i wrote this at like 2 in the morning and will absolutely not edit it later, so this is what you get


End file.
